Inspired by
by jollybelucky
Summary: AU: A series of one shots where I take a favorite film or song and write an Olitz story. Disclaimer: This is a work of Fan Fiction using characters from the 'Scandal' world, which is trademarked by Shonda Rhimes and The Walt Disney/ABC Company.
1. Inspired by Sweet Home Alabama

**Disclaimer: ****_I don't own 'Scandal'_**

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**AN: ****_Hello and welcome to my 'Inspired by... Olitz' one-shots, where I take one of my favorite films, television shows or songs and write a little Olitz story. This one-shot is a nod to the movie 'Sweet Home Alabama' about a married woman who left her small town and returns hoping to the put the past behind her. I watched the movie to kill time in Bangkok and absolutely loved it. _**

**_This story first appeared earlier this year but I mistakenly deleted it when I removed another story called 'The Runaway', which I must apologize for deleting but I realized I couldn't commit to another story at this time. So here it is again. There's no revisions. I just wanted to repost it for all the readers enjoyed it the first time round._**

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_**Inspired by... 'Sweet Home Alabama'**_

Olivia sat hunched up and dripping wet in a light summer button down yellow dress outside on the veranda floor of Fitz's modest three-bedroom house in the small town of Vienna, Virginia. Their argument earlier today had left her bereft and she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she had the chance to apologize. She had cut him to the core and had to face up to the fact she'd gone way too far. An apology was the least she could offer him, and whether he chose to accept or not was an entirely different matter. She'd unexpectedly left a group of childhood friends in the middle of dinner, and practically ran the half-mile to his place.

The warm June evening had caught her off guard and she was one of a few unlucky nighttime folk who got caught in an unexpected downpour on route to her final destination. She slowed down her pace on the slippery surface to avoid falling on her ass because she wore flip-flops, and attempted to use her clutch bag as a makeshift umbrella.

So she sat, shivering and sheltering from the pouring rain, drowning under the guilt of her own bitter choice of words, and wishing he'd come soon so she could get this over and done with.

Everything about Olivia's first visit back to her hometown after a five-year absence was supposed to draw a line under her past. Visit the parents. Tick. Meet up with the old gang. Tick. Get husband to sign the divorce papers. A question mark hung over that particular task, due to Fitz's unwillingness to cooperative. Olivia wanted rid of their ill-fated marriage, so she could finally move on and continue living her successful life as a documentary film maker, in Chicago, with her banker boyfriend, Lawrence.

Five minutes later Olivia's prayers were answered when she heard his car drive up the grassy pathway, and parked a few feet away. As soon as he climbed out, she scrambled to her feet and watched Fitz's long jean-clad legs striding quickly to escape the torrential onslaught. She nervously held her breath, as he skipped up the steps and onto the veranda of the marital home they shared together for a few brief months as newlyweds.

Fitz didn't appear surprised to see her as he approached the front door, with a six-pack tucked under one arm. His midnight blue eyes coolly regarding her soaked to the skin mien. He saw raindrops settled on her chestnut brown skin and her black curly hair clinging to her face, she looked like she'd been dragged out of a river. But those eyes, nothing could overshadow those beautiful deer like brown eyes, shining like polished mahogany from her perfect face. She was an angel on earth and he'd been trapped beneath her wings since he was ten years old.

The beers he carried were to help drown out the accusations and hard truths she launched at him throughout an hour-long argument this afternoon at her parent's home.

Their lost years didn't abate the fiery passion between them, blazing like the everlasting sun, no time seem to dampen or dispersed. They got under each other's skin, good or bad. Today had been very bad. She berated him over his failures as a husband and father-to-be. He fought back with his own war of words, calling her a useless wife and a coward for running out on their marriage. Both exchanging verbal jabs, that left each other feeling rotten and worthless. But Olivia's last insult about their deceased daughter took their fight to an entirely different level. Screaming she was glad she'd lost their baby because carrying his child felt like being infected with cancer. He simply upped and walked away.

"What are you doing here?" he asked his voice dripping with ice.

A secondary chill afflicted her, out of fear, and rattled every bone in her body.

"I-I-I," her teeth chattered out.

He arched an eyebrow. "Well?"

"C-can we talk?"

Fitz unlocked the door and it creaked open, and partly showed the semi-dark entrance.

She felt her heart seized up, would he let her in or slam the door in her face?

He pushed the door, and placing one hand in his pocket, he paused. He finally, stood back.

Olivia breathed, and smiled weakly. She shook off her flip-flops and padded barefoot towards the door. He took another half step back, allowing her plenty of room. Shoulders up and shaking, she passed him and soon found herself standing in a dimly lit living room.

"I'll get you a towel," he said curtly, walking up behind her. She shivered and nodded. Clasping her arms around her waist, she involuntarily closed her eyes.

He placed the six-pack on a glass dining table and left the room. He returned, carrying a large fluffy blue towel.

"Olivia, here."

She didn't move.

Fitz came closer and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "C'mon, Livvie, open your eyes."

She followed his instruction and revealed forlorn brown eyes, causing him to feel a rush of sadness he didn't want too feel, but she looked so lost. He melted.

"You should take off your dress, or you'll catch a cold," he advised her kindly.

Olivia lifted her hands, and her trembling fingers tried and failed to remove a single button. She struggled on, but her fingers shook harder and she became less capable.

Fitz swung the towel over his shoulder and covered her cold hands with his own. Heat surged through Olivia, and she relished in the warm sensation his small yet significant touch inspired.

"I'll do it, okay?" he offered.

She didn't respond, just gazed ahead, with shaking fingers hovering in the air.

Fitz carefully placed her hands by her side. He started unbuttoning the dress, his knuckles occasionally coming into contact with ultra smooth skin he'd previously spent many hours caressing, inhaling, and tasting. Stop! he told himself crossly. But his internally dialogue didn't rein in his growing sexual desire for this divine being, standing in such close proximity to him. She looked annoyingly beautiful, and her scent was too intoxicating to ignore. His jeans chaffed uncomfortably, thanks to his growing erection. He doubled swallowed hard and emphatically cleared his throat, to regain his composure, and hopefully snap Olivia out of her trance-like state. He'd freak out if she picked up on his horn dog behavior. She didn't move. He looked down and stole a glimpse of the soft mould of her breast rising with each breath she took, from a low-cut bra. He groaned softly, and stepped back. He quickly looked back up into her statue gaze. She looked vulnerable and sexy, and he didn't know how long he could fight his pent-up urges. Perhaps if he kept logical thoughts in his head it would be fine. Remember. She hates you. She left you. She wants to divorce you.

Fitz kept his distance and managed to reach out and gently tugged at the dress' short sleeves, but the saturated material refused to budge. He decided to undo more buttons and soon the dress revealed Olivia's toned, petite frame. Fitz closed his eyes and licked his lips. He took a deep breath and slipped the dress from her shoulders and felt her shuddered, when the palms of his strong soft hands brushed across her shoulders and down her upper arms. The dress dropped to the floor. She moved in closer to him, and he could taste the sweet breath escaping her full lips, against his own. He grappled around for the towel, and swirled the soft material around her body, and began briskly rubbing her down.

"I thought it I stayed quiet, the doctors would be wrong, and I would hear her, I would hear my baby..." she croaked out.

Fitz froze momentarily, not quite! And then it hit him. She was talking about _that night_ at the hospital. He felt his chest tightened and he took a sharp inhale, and slowly resumed drying Olivia.

'Livvie, please, don't do this to yourself," he whispered.

"I did want my baby, I wanted our baby -" she sobbed, and tears welled up in her luminous eyes. "I want it to stop hurting..." she faltered and collapsed against his chest, and let the tears fall. Fitz hugged her tightly. He moved his hands behind her neck and drew towards him and their foreheads touched, head to head, their minds aligned as though remembering they were once an inseparable pair who were going to live the fairytale dream, till tragedy struck like a knife and twisted.

"I know you do... that's why I'm here," he said soothingly, and stroked her hair.

Olivia felt safe back in the arms of her childhood sweetheart. The first boy she ever held hands with, pecked on the cheek, given a Valentine's Day card to, where she promised they'd both be: T_ogether, Forever, For Years To Come_. She pushed him away and stared into his eyes, and the ever-present ocean colored blue memory of their lost baby come flooding back, and shattered, and splintered her heart, all over again. Fitz brushed away her tears and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'll always be here."

Olivia didn't know what possessed her, in a heartbeat, her lips were crashing against his and her tongue demanding entrance to his mouth, and soon both tongues were reunited in a familiar dance. His hands caressed her and moved up to cup her face, as he devoured her lips. Fitz broke the kiss and nibbled her top lip and his tongue licked her bottom lip, eventually capturing her mouth and kissing her deeply, taking immense pleasure in the softest sweetest lips he'd ever tasted. Olivia sank her fingers into his mass of thick curly hair massaging his scalp and pulling at the roots wanting more of what she'd been missing. She began peppering his face with kisses, while his hand hastily tore down her bra strap and his dropped his head to catch an erect nipple between his teeth. He set his tongue free to make circular patterns around the hard flesh and using the tip of his tongue to tantalize her nipple's edge. Olivia grunted, and pulled at his hair and pressed her hips persistently into his erection. She badly needed him. He was the only one close enough to help release her from the ongoing agonizing pain of her loss. He could free her from the punishing nightmares that were never far away. She didn't want to feel blame, she wanted to feel desired, anything, to help her forget her wish to explode and disappear like a firework spark in the night sky.

"Fitz - fuck me," she begged him.

Olivia was dragged to the floor in seconds. Fitz slammed his body against hers and kneed her legs apart grinding his hips between her aching thighs, his stiff member prodding furiously against her dripping sex. She frantically worked his belt buckle expertly between her fingers and soon freed his blood-pumping organ. In the same hurried manner Fitz's hands found her hips and ripped at her panties, and she raised her buttocks to support his actions. His fingers playfully fluttered over her sex and between her clit, and he inserted two digits inside her and gloried in her warm juices coating his fingers. Little moans of pleasure escaped from Olivia and she writhed beneath his magical touch, and wrapping her legs around his back, she pulled him closer. Hearing Olivia's whimpering moans drove Fitz beyond distraction, he removed his wet fingers and swiftly entered her, pumping his hips hard and fast, and she lifted her hips and met his every deep thrust, and within a matter of seconds they both reached orgasm.

**/**

Olivia sighed heavily and shifted uncomfortably under his body weight. Fitz pushed up and rolled away. He sought eye contact but she refused to meet his gaze, instead she sat up and found the abandoned towel and cleaned herself.

Neither of them spoke, both trying to comprehend what had just happened.

One minute she'd been grieving over her lost baby, the next, flat on her back with a man she promised to despise for the remainder of her life. She'd been back home for three days and broken her first rule: keep your head in the company of Fitzgerald Grant III. She could kick herself for the lack of self-control she exhibited in his presence. Lawrence. Shit! She'd been unfaithful to her boyfriend. And now, the added weight of guilt took hold, wiping out any lasting feelings of the unadulterated pleasure she'd so eagerly embraced, reconnecting with her first love.

The distance from Olivia sent Fitz crashing back to reality, and left him reeling. He felt her rejection the moment she came down from her orgasm, and it left a void in his gut, she regretted their brief physically reunion. As soon as his penis found it's way back to it's rightful home, he lost control of his senses. It had been too long, and he literally spilled his seed on contact. No woman over the past three years, made him feel as alive or excited as his estranged wife.

Buckling up his jeans, Ftz kept looking at Olivia but she deliberately kept her head averted away from his penetrative gaze. He took a sharp breath and stood up abruptly, and left the room. He soon returned with fresh clothes, to find her huddled up, against the couch, with her arms folded across her bent knees.

"You can wear these home," he told her evenly.

She took the t-shirt and sweatpants on offer. "Thanks," she replied awkwardly, and quickly dressed in his oversized clothing.

"I'll drive you back to your parent's place."

"Fitz..." she began, clambering to her feet. He glared icily at her, to make it clear he was pissed. "Fitz..." she repeated, unsure what to say next.

"Fitz, what? You asked me to fuck you, I fucked you, and now I'm taking you home, isn't that what you want?" he snarled.

"Stop it," she said in a defeated tone.

"Stop what, exactly?"

"Being cruel."

"Me? I'm being cruel?" he asked incredulously. "A minute ago, you literally pushed me off you like I was Quasimodo."

"That's not true."

He rubbed his hand across his forehead wearily. He was exasperated and tired of the constant battling since she walked back into his life, and turned everything on its head.

"Why did you come here tonight?" he asked tersely.

"To apologize, what I said today about... to you earlier about... I'm sorry, it was completely out of line, and not true."

He threw a disparaging look and shrugged his shoulders.

"You obviously believe it, or you wouldn't have said it."

"I was angry," she came back defensively.

"You're always angry, especially with me, so what's new?"

"I didn't fly home to fight with you."

"No, you wanted to come back and make nice so I would agree to a divorce, and you can ran off with your new man, and enjoy big city life away from us boring small town folk. Don't feel bad, let's just call what happened our goodbye fuck, and no harm done."

"What we did was wrong, on so many levels," she almost said to herself.

"You're my wife. Legally, you're cheating on me with your hedge fund hustler."

"He's not a hustler."

"A nine hundred billion dollar bailout would disagree. But hey, what do I know about naked short selling and derivatives? I'm sure him and Ben Bernanke know best."

"Don't take a cheap shot at Lawrence - he didn't break us up. We we're just kids who grew up too fast too soon..."

"You meant the world to me," he confessed.

She shook her head, and snorted.

"No, Fitz, I'm just the first girl that climbed into the back of your Daddy's fast car with you. You and I, we were never husband and wife, not in any real sense."

"And whose fault's that? You walked out on me."

"Because you didn't want to be a married man, you did everything to avoid coming home, virtually every night you were out drinking, gambling or clubbing with your buddies."

"Everything happened so fast, we we're planning to go to college, and the next minute you were pregnant, I felt trapped, but I committed to you."

"Oh my God! When _I_ got pregnant?! Jeez, do you hear yourself? Even now you still don't get it, do you? You think, no, you _believed_ you were doing me a favor by marrying me. Our relationship was a joke to you."

"I don't consider promising to make a commitment 'til death us do part' a joke."

"What about the faithful part of our marriage vows, where we both agreed to 'forsake all others', or did that part slip you memory? When your dick slipped into the wrong hole," she retorted dryly.

He glared down at her through hooded grey eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," Olivia warned him. "You cheated on me with the worse possible person you could've chosen. By the way, how is your girlfriend Melody Carmichael?"

"Stop making shit up, she's never been my girlfriend."

"You slept with her."

"Once, I slept with Mellie, once. After you chucked me out of our home and told me you were done with me."

"The Ross Gellar defense – thank you, _Friends_!"

"Livvie..." he began, stepping towards her. She reversed away from him.

"No. I'm not going to do this. I promised myself I wouldn't argue with you. I came to apologize; I've done that. Now you just need to sign those divorce papers, so I can leave, and everyone can go back to getting on with their lives."

"I'm sorry." He really was and felt crushed by the raw pain, he witnessed, in her eyes.

"Yeah, me too... you're right, I do want to go home," she agreed. Desperately trying to blink instead of brush away tears, so she could remain somewhat in control of her emotions, and he wouldn't see how much the cheating episode had devastated her.

"No," said Fitz quietly.

'What do mean, no?"

"I mean you're staying put. You wanted to come here tonight to offer me an apology. Fine! If you want my forgiveness, the deal is we talk, about you and me. We talk about our marriage, and our baby girl. And, for once you're not going to run, and neither am I. We're going to sit down like two normal people and have a rational conversation. And if you still want to leave, divorce me and marry this Lawrence, then I won't stop you. But understand one thing, Mrs. Olivia Carolyn Grant. I love you. I. Love. You. And nothing you say tonight will change that. So what do you say?"

His breath almost stopped, waiting for a response to his request.

Okay," she whispered. It would be preferable to leave on good terms.

He sighed with relief.

"Okay."

Her cell phone ringing interrupted their fresh agreement.

"Don't answer it," he ordered.

"I have to..." she rushed to her bag and fumbled around and soon found the buzzing hand device.

Seeing caller ID Jake.

"Answer that call and all bets are off," he warned.

"Fitz... I ran out of _Jerry's_, please, I said I'd let the guys know, I'm okay."

"They know you're okay, you're with me. Unless it's your fucking boyfriend?" he raged.

"Jesus, Fitz! What the hell is wrong with you? It was Jake, checking in on me."

She took a couple of steps and pointed the cell millimeters from his nose. He ignored the cell and looked over at her. He was being irrational and acting out because he could feel her slipping away from him, back to a life with friends he didn't know and a boyfriend that could realistically become a second husband.

"Why are so many men concerned about your welfare?"

"Jake's our mutual friend, Fitz. And, his fiancée Quinn, or are you forgetting?"

He snatched the smart phone from her and stared in disgust at the device.

"I bet you if I scrolled through this phone, I'd find more male than female numbers."

"What can I say? Women don't like me," she replied, and held out her open palm.

Fitz walked menacingly towards her, he slammed the cell in her hand. He placed one hand round her waist and pulled her roughly against him.

"Cute," he bite out sarcastically. "Sometimes I wish I'd never laid eyes on you."

"Where has this come from?" she asked bewildered.

"Go Olivia! Get out of my house. Fly back to the windy city, go back to Lawrence, go back to his bed, while you're still dripping from me." He ran his hand over her ass and groped for good measure.

Olivia gasped out loud. She then gritted her teeth and reaching behind, sank her nails into the offending hand, and dragged her fingertips together. Fitz winced! and released her in an instant.

"Thanks for warming me up to be with a real man," she shot back venomously, and shoved him in the chest. Her words more than her actions caused him to stumble back.

Olivia bent down and clumsily collected her dress and chucked her cell in her bag. Without another saying another word, she stormed away. Fitz panicked! He rushed up behind her and without thinking, randomly grabbed the dress.

She spun round, her eyes blazing, and ready to fight back.

"What are you doing?" she demanded fiercely. She pulled at the dress, and he pulled back. "Let go." And they engaged in childish tug of war, game, which he eventually won, yanking the cotton material with such force, she virtually slammed into his chest. He flung the dress down and took her in a fireman's hold and unceremoniously flung her over his shoulder. Olivia punched his back repeatedly and tried kicking out but he locked his forearm around her legs in a strong hold and proceeded to his bedroom.

_/_

"Put me down! Let me – aah!" Olivia yelled.

Fitz threw her down on the bed and straddled her. She pushed her elbows into the mattress and tried to pull herself up, she delivered a few half-hearted punches to his chest. Fitz smirked condescendingly. He batted her hand away as though she were as light as a feather, to prove he had could out power her any time, and always had the upper hand. His smugness made her blood boil. She slowed down her breathing and taking a deep inhale, sat up, and knocked the conceited look off his face with a sharp slap. He seized her by the shoulders and forced her onto the bed, and pointed one finger menacingly in Olivia's startled face.

"You think I warmed you up for your boyfriend?"

"Isn't that what you said, go back to my boyfriend, a hot mess from you?" she asked innocently, with an exaggerated wink.

Fitz eyes seething eyes gave her some satisfaction she'd been able to torment him. "My lover-" he clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Be. Quiet." he hissed icily. He looked predatory. Her chest was rising and falling in quick succession. She ached for him. A deadly combination of desire and loathing.

He peeled away his hand. He began massaging her throat, and his thumb play with the pulse, he noticed, throbbing against her collarbone. She turned her head and he stopped. He started to caress her temple and then he tangled his fingers up in her hair, and pulled, as he lowered his head.

His mouth captured her bottom lip and sucked. Her She could feel tingling sensations and found herself melting all over again. But she was equally mad. He just lost it for no good reason, and she refused to give in, so she threw a punch that landed on his shoulder. He teeth grazed her lip and he bit down, she jerked back from the sweet pain. Her fist came flying back, but he caught her wrist and plastered it against the bed, his mouth still pressed against her, forcing his tongue between her stubborn lips and entwined his tongue with hers and both moaned tasting salty blood between their dueling tongues. Olivia twisted free and swept her arms around his shoulders and drew him closer.

"Take off your pants," he whispered against her lips. But she was too immersed in his lips and lean in, but he pulled back. "Do it. I want to see you, " he growled impatiently, in a bass low voice, that sent shivers of delight charging round her body.

He sat back up, and looked straight between her legs.

Staring up at him beneath lowered lashes, Olivia slipped the sweatpants over her hips. His eyes flickered and blurred over, and he audibly growled. He knocked her hands away and quickly finished the job. He kneeled between her legs and roughly pulled up the oversized t-shirt. His blue eyes were dilating as he stared lustfully at the tantalizing vaginal vision that caused him years of sleepless nights and morning showers.

His fingers brushed her private parts and rested his hand on her thighs, his thumbs massaging her firm flesh. Olivia covered his hands and pulled her legs further apart and performed a slow hypnotic hip dance beckoning him to come taste. His mouth hung open and he began openly panting. He'd wanted to take his time, looking. But the delicious morsel called Olivia Grant had wetted his appetite beyond reason. She terminated any ounce of self-control he held onto, and revealed his true animalistic self, primarily, that he was hungry and wanted to eat.

"Oh God, Livvie."

Fitz buried his head between her thighs and inhaled her essential essence, and it was like an instant sexual hit. He closed his mouth over her heated box and slowly he released his tongue and licked. She bucked. He stopped. She moaned and raised her hips. His tongue snaked out between her swollen clitoris and he starting teasingly licking zag-zag patterns up and down her slit with the tip of his tongue. Olivia grabbed his hair and cried out when his tongue ran up and down her throbbing sex, eventually flickering over her nub, which he captured between his lips, and gently sucked. He playfully started grazing the delicate skin between his teeth and then his tongue started frantically licking and sucking the soft berry flesh over and over again. Olivia gasped and flung her head back to the heavens as her lower back arched and her legs flew in the air. Fitz grabbed her ass. He had her where her exactly where he wanted her. His mouth widened and he sucked down harder, and he began using his tongue like a dueling sword, repeatedly lashing around her sensitive sensory folds, licking her out from north to south, east to west, and all around the world, in a merry dance - driving her insane.

Olivia hands were clenched by her side as she contracted her lower back into bed, her feet were slip sliding on the sheet, pleading with him to stop, as she rocked her hips back to escape his torturous tongue action. It drove him on. His large hands seized her hips, and pressed down, so she could barely move, allowing him to exert more pressure. His tongue ploughed in deeper, and he found his way into her opening, his tongue, hot and wet, and slipping in and out, and moving in sync with her juttering hips.

Within seconds she was thrashing about wildly from head to toe as pleasurable electric sparks aligned, and sent her body into a rapturous orgasm, as he lifted her to a higher ground. She screamed out his name between short breathless pants... and ecstatic moans... and finally... faltering to soundless cries from her airless lungs as Fitz immersed his face in her succulent juices, and drank like a man quenching his thirst in the dessert.

**/**

"Does your boyfriend make you cum that hard?"

"When was the last time you ate that good?" Olivia hit back breathlessly, still coming down from her orgasmic high. She hated his arrogance, and didn't want him to see her blissful state and turned on her side, and pulled down her t-shirt to cover herself.

Fitz smiled a devilish grin.

"Touché."

He dropped a light kiss on her cheek and his hair accidentally brushed against her skin. She involuntarily smiled. Feeling his warm touch relaxed her after their first awkward encounter.

"The next time you see him, you can tell him you had a Columbus Job," Fitz smirked, removing his denims.

She looked over her shoulders at him, with a puzzled expression.

"What are you jabbering on about?" Olivia asked.

"A Columbus Job, it means I explored every each of you," he finished in a cocksure manner.

"God, you're so conceited!" she fumed at him, and rolled her eyes.

She wanted to turn way but become mesmerized watching him remove his jeans and seeing his naked muscular long legs. He pulled off his shirt and the six-pack she remembered so well said, 'hello' and she nodded approvingly. He was still fit. No question about it. She met his sapphire sparking eyes and boyish cheeky grin. Her heart skipped and flipped at once. She blushed. He was too good looking, charismatic, and goddamn sexy for his own good. He could make her feel, frustrated, angry, excited, sexy and happy all at the same. No one came close to drawing out such a range of emotions from her. No one made her tick the way he did.

Olivia bit her lip to suppress a smile, but her mouth betrayed her by trembling, and she laid back, and she burst into a full beam smile.

Fitz eyes fluttered and he grinned, feeling the power of Olivia's one in a zillion smile alighted the candle burning in his soul for his sweet baby.

He shifted his position and lay between her legs, and expertly removed her t-shirt and bra. His semi-hard on was growing to full size and he covered her body.

"I want you, Livvie," he said huskily, licking her hot skin and inhaling her unique scent.

"Correction, you want to punish me," she groaned, enjoying their full nakedness for the first time.

"Uh-huh. You're biggest mistake was coming back here, and letting me get this close to you."

"Great sex doesn't make for a great relationship."

He stroked her face and brushed his fingers across her bruised bottom lip and kissed her softly. She closed her eyes and felt her lips swell from his light touch.

"Is that what you and your boyfriend enjoy, a great relationship?" he mocked gently.

"Ooh, kitty's got claws."

"I'm a lion, and this lion has claws," he roared, and tickled her and she laughed and squirmed. Olivia grabbed his powerful forearms and they both stopped and stared deeply into each other's eyes, and the familiar sparks flew between them.

"I love you," he told her seriously.

"I know."

"Do you feel the same?"

"You can't ask me that?"

"I'm asking Olivia. Do you love me?"

She took a large gulp, and nodding: "I've been in love with you since I was nine years old. Nothing's change," she replied huskily.

Moments later Fitz entered Olivia and husband and wife took a marathon time rekindling their love.

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**AN: ****_Happy Reading Gladiators!_**


	2. Inspired by Alanis Morissette

**Disclaimer ****_I don't own _**_**'Scandal'.**_

**AN:****_ Hello there, here's another old one-shot I'm publishing for the second time based on one of my favorite songs._**

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**Inspired by... '****_Ironic'_**** by Alanis Morissette**

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! _

"Come in," called out Professor Cyrus Beane from his office.

The door flew open.

Olivia Pope came marching in with her ponytail hair bouncing furiously and fiery chocolate eyes simmering dangerously closed to angry tears as she glared menacingly at her Professor. She slammed down papers on his desk and pointed at the focus of her fury with an accusing finger.

"Professor, with all due respect what's this?" asked his favorite student. An academically gifted black woman with distinctive features that shone out from the crowd: big chocolate eyes, bee-stung lips and cut glass cheekbones. She was a vision of ethereal beauty, women rushed to plastic surgeons to replica and men wished they could possess.

"B+ B+," Olivia spluttered, as though she were spewing out acid. The portly middle-aged man pushed back out of his chair and wearily rose to his feet. He collected the papers that had been thrown on his desk. "I worked hard on this assignment," Olivia continued heated. "My research and inclusion of key cases from the past thirty years, government inquires, the resulting policies and news articles all well documented. I even managed to contact and secure a quote from Congresswoman Porter, whose father formed part of the original prosecution, and you think this warrants a B+?"

Olivia Pope was A-grade all the way. Arriving at Columbia University and attending Professor Beane's class, every essay and project he set for the class, she was currently averaging the highest grade among her peers. So, if he thought he could get away with this demeaning grade, after all her diligent work, she might suggest her professor seek professional help from a doctor or therapist.

"Ms. Pope -"

"Did you read it properly?" she challenged him in a condescending tone. She dropped her head to one side, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "Did you?" she demanded to know thrusting her hands into her skinny jeans' back pockets and tapping one boot clad leg impatiently.

"Ms. Pope, I have company," Cyrus told her sternly, tipping his head to his right. Olivia followed his eye line and let out a disinterested sigh and then - whoa!

Olivia's hand flew to her throat when her luminous eyes fell into a pair of the dreamiest bluest eyes she ever known another human being to be blessed with.

In a split second her universe altered and her energy was positively in tune with the man sitting comfortable on her Professor's Chesterfield leather couch a few yards away, waving and casually smiling, a cheeky lopsided cheeky grin, at Olivia, and sending her heart into almost cardiac arrest. Oh my God! she thought, he possessed _the_ sexiest smile, and she giggled. Giggling? Olivia Pope didn't do giggling or sighing or swooning or any of the other girly stuff she considered a form of mental illness. She did logic, no nonsense stares and dismissive looks. Olivia prided herself on being fully dedicated to her studies and her career ambition to become great attorney. Losing her mind over a sexy stranger? Olivia gave herself more credit, but her common sense was unravelling, because both sides of her brain were firing messages straight to Olivia's gut that she would _never_ want to go back to time when she didn't know... that lopsided grin.

Who was this magnificent creature with his crown of glorious thick dark wavy hair, mesmerizing eyes and smouldering aura of sexual energy? Handsome was an understatement to describe his captivating godlike beauty. He possessed an undeniable quality she was scrambling with words in her mind to define. What secretly thrilled Olivia, he seemed to be staring at her with similar intense interest. He uncrossed marathon long legs and Olivia's head moved in sync with his every action. She watched him slowly rise up into a standing position and stroll over - never once breaking eye contact. Soon his towering six foot three frame was standing in front of her, causing her to crane her neck, since she'd been rendered incapable of tearing her gaze away from his beautifully sculptured face. He was perfection personified.

Seriously, Olivia, you have to stop staring, she scolded herself. But struggled to make the journey from command to action.

"Fitz, if you hadn't already guess, Olivia is one of my current crop of students. Olivia Pope, meet one of my former students, Fitzgerald Grant III," said Cyrus, absentmindedly pointing from one to the other.

"Hi, Miss. Olivia Pope, it's good to meet you. I'm Fitzgerald Grant, but please call me Fitz," he announced softly, in the most wonderfully deep baritone voice.

His dulcet tones oozed over her and made her heart 'zing'. Damn! He sounded as good as he looked and she'd stake her eye watering college tuition fees he tasted just as delicious. She unconsciously lowered her gaze but a magnetic charge pulled at her and she felt hypnotically drawn to stealing glances at him through her long dark lashes. She unconsciously, dropped one corner of her bottom lip bit down the lower corner and brushed her tongue between her teeth.

Fitz took a sharp breath. He extended a large hand to formally introduce himself, and fulfil his urgency to touch this feisty young beauty.

Olivia offered her left hand and as their fingertips came into contact something shifted between them. A simple skin brushing skin set sparks of tingling sensations spreading from her hand and zooming to other regions, and magically, her previous rage exploded into new desires and urges.

Who cares about a dumb ol' B+? She'd definitely score an A+ given the opportunity with this prime specimen of pure alpha male.

"Hi," she replied huskily. She sounded like she'd sighed. And for the first time she understood what it meant taken on a naturally high.

"It's nice meeting you too Mr. Fitzgerald Grant III," she finished breathlessly. Olivia didn't mean say his full name in such a come-hither manner, sounding demur and sexy, wasn't part of plan when she came flying into Beane's office.

Meanwhile Cyrus quickly flicked through Olivia's paper. He turned and walked to his nearby bookcase to find his thumb-worn but trusted copy of _Bouvier's Law Dictionary Volume 2_.

"Now Ms. Pope to answer your question, or in your case, _not_ to answer the question..."

But she stopped thinking about her initial problem. Her focus was two hundred percent taken up with the man whose touch was sending shock waves of rapturous pleasure surging through her and leaving a throbbing ache between her thighs. Ugh! She felt heat rushing to her face and audibly gasped, outraged by her wanton behavior. She involuntarily clenched every orifice in her nether region as though she were attending her Wednesday evening ashtanga yoga class.

Fitz gently brushed his thumb across her palm and her eyes fluttered and the tiniest of sighs _did_ escaped from her lips, and suddenly she felt quite flustered, and wished she hadn't worn a roll neck jumper. But, hello, it was January, and she wasn't expecting to become a hot mess over a dazzling blue-eyed sexpot in the middle of her professor's office. Feeling very self-conscious, she unclasped her fingers and tried pulling back. Fitz smirked. He held for a fraction longer than necessary before slowly releasing her slim hand and brushing his hand along hers so they were still in touch, connected palm-to-palm, moving in unison, to barely fingertips touching, and reluctantly parting.

"Olivia Pope, you come storming in here like a bull in a china shop and now can't be bothered to listen when I'm explaining your grade," Cyrus snapped impatiently. He brow furrowed and he looked oddly at her and Fitz.

Who was that? she thought, irritated by the unwanted intrusion. Damn! She had totally forgotten she was in the middle of heated discussion about her grade. She swivelled round to face Professor Beane, and straighten up with her hands scrunched up into fists by her side, praying she could shake off her inappropriate thoughts, and hoped her professor had been too engrossed in her paper to notice her sudden attitude adjustment.

"Um, sorry Professor. It's just - I didn't know, when you said come in, I thought you were alone," she said apologetically, and tilted her head in Fitz's direction.

"Next time you come into a room - do a quick scan - I could have been sat here with the President of the United States," he said, ending with a smirk at Fitz.

Olivia raised one eye at her professor and looked over at Fitz eye-fucking her beneath hooded framed eyes. She blushed and couldn't help smile. He was outrageous and gorgeous, and she didn't want him to stop.

Olivia shook her head. She didn't want to give Professor Beane any reason to be suspicious. She wanted to engage professionally with both men, instead of playing sexy mind games with one.

"Oh, of course, Fitzgerald Grant, your father's Senator Fitzgerald Grant II." She had been so distracted by his yumminess her usual super sharp thinking and brainpower had temporarily deserted her to perform only basic functions - like assessing super fit hunks - and left little room for other matters.

"Yes, in the next few years, I'm hoping with the help of Cyrus to follow in his footsteps," he explained.

For a second Olivia caught a glimpse of blue ice-chip eyes when she mentioned his father, but in an instant the warm engaging sparkle that knocked her off her axis was back.

"That's great, you're going to run for State Governor? Do you think you have the stomach for politics?"

Both men were taken about by Olivia's no holds barred question.

"Olivia, you're talking to a Navy Seal man?" Cyrus joked seriously.

"So? He's going to get asked a lot together questions than mine. People always ripping into children trying to emulate their parent's success - just asked Sean Lennon."

Fitz looked at Olivia is amusement. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and his head rocked back as he let out a deep rolling laugh.

A sexy laugh, and he wasn't put off by her ballsy attitude, mused Olivia. What could she say? Fitzgerald Grant III was ticking all the right boxes so far.

"Maybe I rethink hiring you Cyrus and hire Miss. Pope, instead," suggested Fitz, wiping away his laughter tears.

"Yeah, thanks, but no thanks, I'm not a Republican," Olivia told him confidently.

"Olivia likes to boast she's A-Political," Cyrus said good-naturedly.

"All the more reason to get you on my side," replied Fitz seductively. "I'll need some to keep me on my toes and whip me into shape."

Olivia swallowed hard. Was this innuendo? Was he flirting with her? She damn well hoped so.

A knock on the door rudely interrupted Olivia's wishful thinking.

"It's like Grand Central in here today," muttered Cyrus. ""Come in," he barked out.

Everyone looked round to see a tall elegant and very beautiful brunette make her entrance and smile graciously at everyone until her blue eyes meet with Olivia's friendly expression. Her perfect smile vanished and she performed a fleeting up and down appraisal of the pretty young woman, who looked stunning in skinny jeans, boots and roll neck turquoise blue fitted jumper. Mellie wondered how beautiful she'd looked if she really made an effort, and it somewhat irked Mellie she thought this way about a woman she would never normally consider in her league.

"Mellie," Cyrus greeted the woman briskly.

"Cyrus," she replied sweetly, walking to his desk. They both leaned in and formally pecked cheeks. Before anyone had a chance for further introductions, she turned to Fitz. "Darling, I'm so sorry I'm late, the driver got caught up in the most horrendous traffic," she was saying, as she crossed the floor.

Olivia was forced to retreat when this Mellie person drew nearer to Fitz. Gliding past Olivia, she lifted her left hand and pretended to sweep invisible loose hair strains behind her ear. BANG! A glittering diamond engagement ring shone like a flashing red warning sign in Olivia's face, and she fluttered her lashes to block out the bright rays bouncing off the fist size rock.

Mellie eagerly stretched out her arms and slipped them over Fitz's broad shoulders and laid a light kiss on his closed lips. She pressed her body up close against Fitz, and leapt back startled, when she felt his erection brush against her thigh. She narrowed her eyes and looked crossly at him. She saw his cheeks had turned bright pink.

Fitz didn't make eye contact, just looked straight ahead and slipped an arm round Mellie's waist. She slightly relaxed, but inside was incensed, knowing exactly who was responsible for her fiancé's obvious excitement. But Mellie possessed enough decorum to politely ignore it and not cause a scene.

The dose of reality handed to Olivia by Mellie made her heart sink. She was shaking in her boots. Fitz went from flirting with her to embracing another woman in a matter of seconds, and she thought about the popular artist, Alanis Morissette singing her torturous lyrics: _It's meeting the man my dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife_ came blasting through her mind. Wrestling with conflicting feelings of her earlier attraction to one of earth-shattering disappointment - trying to digest the unexpectedly arrival of his serious girlfriend - Olivia switched focus back to her original issue, and making a sprint runner's exit.

"Look Professor, you have visitors, and my shift at Chimichanga starts in forty-five minutes. I'll see you another time," said Olivia, and clumsily grabbed her papers from his hands. In her desperation to leave she missed a few papers and they floated to the floor. Fitz moved to assist but Mellie subtly pressed her hand against his chest. She took great satisfaction when Olivia sucked her teeth in frustration, and bent down to clear up, with no outside help.

Frantically snatching up her papers, Olivia shot up, and began walking backwards to exit. "I-I'll let you-I'll email you, with a date and time. I-I'll say good - ouch!" The doorknob, smacked! painfully, into her lower back. Her hand frantically searched for the handle, and relief shot through her when she made enough contact to hold, turn and open. She nervously smiled, making eye contact with no one in particular, and after a saying a quick, "Bye," she was gone.

"What a strange girl," commented Mellie, looping her arm through Fitz's and feeling a tinge of disappointment when his body stiffened at her gesture to get closer to him.

"She's the best student I've ever taught," Cyrus shot back, without thinking.

'I thought you said my fiancé was your best student," Mellie pouted, staring adoringly up at Fitz, still trying to gain his attention. But his mind had wandered elsewhere.

For a while Fitz simply stared at the door where the most breathtakingly gorgeous woman he'd ever seen in his life had swooped in, dazzled him and disappeared, before he had a chance to catch his breath or think.

"Clearly times have changed," conceded Fitz with a indifferent shrug of the shoulders.

But inside he was in knots knowing something had change, he thought, and knew his life would never be the same having met Olivia Pope.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading. **


	3. Inspired by BBC 1's The Musketeers

**Disclaimer: _I don't own 'Scandal'_**

**AN: _This one-shot recently appeared as a new story but I've decided to republish as a one-shot with the intention of developing it into a full-on story after completing my other two stories 'Love Letters...' and 'Family Portrait'. It's my nod to the BBC1's recent adaption of the Alexandre Dumas' classic tale 'The Musketeers'. I must admit to having a soft spot for the character Athos played by the brilliant Tom Burke. _**

**_I'd like to thank everyone who read reviewed, favorited or/and followed this story the first time round. I deleted this story without giving some of you fair warning so please accept my sincere apologies. I promise it won't happen again. (-:_**

* * *

**Inspired by... BBC1's The Musketeers**

It was a miserable wet and cold Parisian night. Musketeer Fitzgerald Grant III stood on the edge of the dimly lit square blinking hard to see through the silver curtain of pouring rain, and blustering winds that caused the locals to cower and race for shelter at home or the local inn. The latter option was where Fitzgerald and his fellow Musketeers hoped to be supping wine or maybe cognac to wash away a hard day's work.

Fitz pulled down his cavalier and readjusted his belt feeling the weight and protection of his battered full-length leather coat over his tabard. During his twenty-nine years he was one of few men that had traveled to new lands and experienced blistering hot sun and bone chilling ice snowy weather so tonight's storm was no bother for the gallant and brave protector of King Louis XIII.

Once his piercing blue eyes had assessed the area he strode across the cobbled ground. For a split second he paused and his eyes settled on the water well situated in the middle of the square. he thought he saw a movement but then it was quiet. he shrugged his shoulders. A trick of the light, he told himself, and set off again towards Madam Abigail Whelan's boarding house where Fitz had earlier agreed to meet his two fellow Musketeers Stephen and Harrison, and new recruit Huck, who'd been residing at the house since his arrival from the Provinces a month ago.

Olivia was crouched down by the well and watched the tall man stride purposefully across the cobbled square. When he stopped she stopped breathing and painted her body against the stone work. She noted he dressed just like the other two and positive she had found the men she'd been looking for since her arrival in the capital.

Nearing the boarding house entrance, Fitz's nostrils twitched and filled with the fragrant scent of vanilla and wild honeysuckle. His senses reacted with curiosity but did not deter him from placing a hand on his sword. He moved to his right and walked down the sidewall of the house. In a split second he spun round and like a panther, he captured his prey securely by the throat and had the person pinned against the wall. A whistling gust of wind took his hat and his assailant's hood fell to her shoulders.

Fitz drew his breath like he drew his sword to stifle the heartbeat that leapt to his throat and set his pulses racing as he softly stared into luminous doe-like brown eyes. The veil of rain miraculously lifted and the moon shone down and onto the face of a young black woman. Beautiful, his first thought. No, she was stunningly captivating, and he felt a desire to possess her so overwhelmingly powerful it made his whole body tremble with excitement and fear.

"It isn't wise to sneak up on people," he greeted the rare beauty. His gravel-like baritone voice wavering like the howling wind.

"I hardly snuck up on you," she replied. Her voice was deliciously soft and alluring, feeding blood to his veins, and warming his heart against the cold beating rain. His eyes drifted astray and his gaze fell to her pillow lips, pouting up at him, as though they were begging to be kissed. His mouth hungrily parted as his arousal increased and he shifted his stance to ease the agony of his erect organ pressing against his clothing and seeking her comfort.

Olivia tried to move but he tightened his grip like a python. "Do you mind letting go of my throat?"

Her question momentarily contained Fitz's lustful thoughts. His neck flexed but his hand was strong like steel relishing the texture of the smoothest silkiest skin beneath his fingertips.

"Then I trust it's fair to ask you to remove your knife from my –"

They both glanced down at his groin area, and saw the flashing blade of the knife she held. The look was quick! Lasted barely a millisecond! And they were back to their standoff. Her face looked indifferent; his determined.

"Do you know whom you're speaking with?" he asked with a hint of arrogance.

She sighed. Bored. She arched one perfect eyebrow. "The frilly hat was a dead giveaway but the leather bondage is that a new fashion statement, Musketeer?"

He clenched his jaw at her smart retort. How dare she patronize him? And suddenly, he felt his towering six foot three frame shrivel to the size of a baker's loaf.

"I don't want to hurt you," he warned, his voice thick and threatening.

"Neither I, you."

"You think you could hurt me?"

"Indefinitely." A confident smile shaped her gorgeous mouth. He took a sharp breath. She was far too tempting. He was attracted, and instantly chastised himself. No one affected him, no one, not since, no, he refused to descend into morbid thoughts of his estranged killer wife, Millicent Grant, prowling the streets of Paris with revenge on her mind.

This one thought she had him beat, and he inflated his chest to make himself appear more dangerous to her.

As they continued to lock eyes, Fitz wondered if he could perhaps risk a dangerous game?

He lowered his chin and smiled... a sensual lopsided grin that gave his midnight blue eyes a youth glow and transformed his dark and moody exterior into magnetizing handsomeness. With his heart pounding, he leaned in closer, his thumb trailing up her throat and brushed her raindrop-panting mouth. The sound of her breath hitching in her throat and dark eyes wildly blinking all scared and excited, pleased him. He read the wanton look of expectation illuminating her ethereal face. He'd wetted her appetite and his eyes glowed victoriously.

Fitz's breathing grew heavy... he let out a low rumbling moan and as his full beard grazed her chin, he laid a feather-light kiss upon her. Olivia crocked her neck and pressed her lips to his with equal affection, completely lost in his raw manly power that sent her senses rocketing and heat waves of fire dancing over her skin and between her thighs. She found him dangerously sexy and every limb in her body weakened as she succumbed to his tender caress and lowered her guard.

Taking full advantage! Fitz moved like white lightening flash! He deftly caught and crushed her knife wielding hand between his fingers. She yelped! He quickly used his free arm, and clamped it like a vice across her shoulders and slammed her slender frame to the wall. His thumb dug her wrist, causing a blinding sharp pain to shot through her arm and her knife fell... the blade's tip scratched and clattered nosily onto the stone ground.

He shoved his body against her and the air whizzed from her chest.

She was crushed and trapped beneath him.

Defeated, Olivia's eyes flashed angrily. She cursed herself for being so gullible and falling for his fine looks and Luciferic charm. She pushed. He pushed back: harder and stronger. His face up close, his thick wavy hair brushed her temple, and his angry sharp breaths bruising her cheek. The act felt so erotic and full of passion. And again, she melted, her resistance in tatters.

Fitz felt her weakening and applied more pressure; his sternum crushed against her breasts.

And then there was just the sound of two thundering hearts beating in sync.

It was deafening.

She glared up at him, her face alight with fury and passion. "You have to let me go," her voice rising with every syllable.

"I don't have to do anything."

Olivia turned away seeking a distraction and escape route from the rush of emotions exploding inside her gut telling her that meeting this handsome stranger wasn't fate but destiny.

"I need your help?"

"My help? You just tried to stick a knife in me."

"While you attempted to crush my wind pipe!"

Fitz raised his eyebrows and stubbornly held on, any excuse to keep touching her and keep up their physical contact.

She sighed. Olivia hadn't risked her life to come Paris to get into silly squabbles or fall head over heels. She was on a mission.

"I'm looking for a Musketeer called Harrison," she conceded.

"What business do you have with him?"

"You have to take me to him."

"And why would I do that?"

"There's a personal matter I need to discuss with him."

Fitz's body revolted and his grip slackened. He dared himself to ask. "Are you lovers?" His voice was sourly, and full of envy, and he instantly regretted his question and resentful response. But the idea of her in the arms of another man left him feeling his insides were the aftermath of a bloody carnage.

"No!" she replied indignantly. He instantly relaxed. Women normally posed no interest to him other than quick sexual gratification. Their desire to prolong any encounter was a matter for them and of no consequence to Fitz, but she on the other hand was an entirely different proposition.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Olivia, Olivia Pope."

Fitz repeated the name to himself. "Livvie," his voice murmured softly.

"No, O-li-v-ia..." she corrected huskily, with bell ringing laughter. She secretly loved his unique interpretation. _Who are you?_

He didn't know why but he was struck dumb by her delectable singing tone.

"I asked you a question, who are you?" she repeated.

He coughed nervously. "Umm, my name's Fitzgerald Grant III, but everyone calls me Fitz."

She nodded.

He frowned. Waiting impatiently. He wanted to hear her angelic voice say his name.

The boarding house's door creaked open and the sound of men's voices and clanking boots interrupted the private world of Fitz and Olivia. They looked guilty and broke apart.

Three men suddenly appeared, dressed in heavy leather overcoats like Fitz.

"We heard noises," said the shortest man, looking suspiciously at Olivia.

"Fitz, who is this divine creature you're playing with in the dark?" asked a tall slim built man, with sly smile.

The man's innocuous remark triggered an awkward silence and nervous response from Fitz, who dropped to one knee and picked up Olivia's knife and placed it in his pocket, considering it a memento. He collected his hat and regained his upright posture. His chin buried in his chest, as he replaced his hat. His eyes bore into Stephen, who shuddered like his was experiencing the onset of froze bite.

"Huck, Stephen, Harrison this is Olivia Pope," Fitz told them.

"Good evening, good to meet you all."

They tipped hats at Olivia politely and looked back quizzically at Fitz.

"Harrison, she's enquiring after you," Fitz announced coolly.

"Me? What can I do for you Mademoiselle?"

"Harrison Wright?" she needed him to confirm.

"Yes how do you know my name?"

"There's a lot I know about you. May I speak with you privately?"

"Speak freely, I have no secrets from my friends?"

"Fine. Your mother had a sister Maya who journeyed on the same slave ship from the Caribbean. When they arrived in France they were sold separately. My mother, Maya was taken to a just outside Paris she became pregnant with me. I'm your cousin, Olivia Pope."

Harrison looked in disbelief and laughed. "My Mother never had a sister and if she did they clearly weren't close because she never mentioned her not once to me."

"I can assure you, I'm not lying," she went to reached for her pouch and three swords were drawn and brandished in her direction. "Gentlemen, that's hardly polite behavior."

"That's... not necessary," interjected Fitz

"No?" The trio asked in unison.

"No," confirmed Fitz sheepishly.

The men lowered their weapons and Olivia drew out a piece of paper and presented it to Harrison.

He scratched his head and laughed self-consciously. "I'm not much of a reader."

"More a fighter," jested Stephen.

"I'd say lover," shot back Harrison. The two best friends laughed at their shared sense of humor.

Olivia waved the paper in annoyance that put an abrupt end to their comedy act.

Stephen stepped forward and collected the paper and read.

"Harrison, this is official documentation from the Government. I think you might want to listen to what she has to say."

"We can talk privately inside Madam Whelan's house,"

"We'll be at the inn when you're done," Fitz cut in briskly.

"I'll be along shortly," Harrison assured his friends, and smiling broadly at Olivia, he invited her to lead the way.

Stephen watched with niggling interest the two leave and disappear. "Why so you think she's here?" he asked Fitz thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

"I trust whatever it is, she makes it quick, the last thing Harrison needs is a distraction," responded Fitz, a lot sharper than he intended, and drew curious glances from his fellow companions.

Stephen considered Fitz's agitated state. Since meeting the man three years ago he proved himself to be the master craftsman of emotional control and cool detachment, and Stephen wondered if perhaps his fellow Protector of King that should be worried about being distracted.

"Do you think she's speaking the truth, about being a blood relative?" he probed.

"I find it hard to believe someone so beautiful could possibly be related to that ugly mug," sneered Huck.

"I need a drink," grunted Fitz. He elbowed he way past Huck knocking him sideways and only Huck's nature born agility kept from tumbling over.

Stephen nodded in the direction of the inn and walked in step with Huck and a slow smile of satisfactory crossed his lips. Oh, yes, she definitely dented some of the iron cast armor his brooding friend wore like a battle scar.

* * *

Fitz sat alone as he sometimes did. He drained brandy wine from the battered metal cup and refilled and swallowed the content in one and replenished the cup for the third time.

A few tables away Stephen and Huck were in high spirits laughing and flirting with serving wench, Amanda Tanner, who enjoyed their good-natured banter but the buxom blonde kept a keen eye on Fitz, hoping this evening he might at last be interested or at least intoxicated enough to want to share her bed for the night, but little did she know...

Fitz was besotted. Fitz was also mad. He desperately wanted to shake off his unexpected meeting with Olivia Pope and allowing her to get under his skin. He drank thirstily as if to prove his point. But even the beginnings of his alcohol tainted mind couldn't erase the memory of her huge expressive brown eyes effervescing from her beguiling face, and those pouting lips, he cravingly wanted to taste and explore with every stroke of his tongue. She was an irresistible combination of celestial beauty and spitfire passion that somehow thawed the ice wall he'd perfectly constructed with cognac and wine three years ago to cope with the torturous nightmare of his wife ruthlessly cutting short his young brother Teddy's life for exposing her criminal past.

From nowhere Amanda came at him, swinging her hips provocatively and batting her eyelashes.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, provocatively. She stood opposite him, bent over the table and tapped the half empty bottle.

"I'm good," Fitz muttered, head buried in his drink. He was blind to her flirtatious behavior. The Pope woman was all he had on his mind. God, she felt she good in his arms and he remembered how her petite shapely body fused together perfectly to his as though she had been created for him.

"Are you sure?" Amanda asked, now shaking the bottle.

Fitz signed in frustration, irritated by the interruption, but thought maybe another bottle might be the solution. He glanced at his dusky wine bottle and Amanda's hand, and turned his head upwards his eyes widened seeing two ample breasts staring invitingly at him. Slowly raising his head Fitz met Amanda's lingering gaze and seductive smile.

They whipped their heads round at the sound of loud screams. Two exiting punters were hit as the inn door crashed open. Six Red Guards came charging in with hands ready at their swords, and staring menacingly at the crowd, as though invading enemy territory.

Amanda shrunk back, her eyes darting around nervously for her boss, the innkeeper, James Novak.

"Gentlemen what brings you here?" asked James, fretfully. Trouble from Cardinal Cyrus Beane's notorious henchmen who implemented a policy of bloodshed first ask questions later was a problem he wanted to avoid at all costs, especially when it affected his livelihood, which he knew from past experiences he wouldn't be compensated adequately for any damage.

"One of our men was murdered tonight," announced the Head Guard, Jake Ballard, rage seeping through his every word. "We're on the hunt for a female killer." He walked between tables looking with disgust at the drinking patrons and his emerald eyes turned to ice spotting Fitzgerald Grant and his Musketeers puppets present. He attempted to join their rank years ago but Captain David Rosen told him he didn't have the right mental attitude or skill and kindly suggested he apply for a position with the Red Guards. He tried to convince the Captain and asked to sword fight Rosen's best Musketeer which set him up for a duel with Fitz. A fatal mistake. Fitz disarmed him in less than two minutes and Jake never forget the humilation he'd suffered and carried a grudge towards Fitz since that fateful day.

Jake and his men were were feared and loathed for their brutal treatment of the locals unlike the Musketeers who commended respect from citizens for their fairness and below radar social justice.

Gasps and howls of disbelief rang from the patrons. Stephen and Huck stared at Fitz head bent low and taking a leisurely sip of his drink.

Under the table Fitz tapped his pocket, remembering the knife in his possession.

"How did this woman manage to overcome one of your men?" called out Stephen.

"She seduced him and left him with guts spilling out," said one of the guards.

"Sounds... unpleasant."

"This woman is negro, and extremely dangerous. There's a reward for her capture," Jake announced.

"Do you think -?" muttered Huck under his breath.

"Harrison's mystery relative may not be in Paris for an innocent family reunion?" finished Stephen.

Fitz looked over and his eyes gave the silent commend to exit but 'wait' till the guards left, considering it unwise under the circumstances to draw attention.

* * *

During the short journey Stephen and Huck they tried to engage Fitz in conversation about the latest problem to befall them but he marched in silence before smashing through the boarding house door and into a sparse, clean small dining room featuring a blazing fireplace and long wooden table with four chairs.

"Good evening to you too," Madam Abigail Whelan said sardonically, folding her arms across her chest. "If my door's damaged, I'll be paying your Captain a visit and presenting him with the bill."

"I'm sure the Captain would welcome a visit from you," responded Fitz darkly. Abby gasped and covered her mouth at his double innuendo comment. "Where is she?" continued Fitz as his eyes darted around the room and settled on the archway of the room.

"Who?" asked Abby tongue-in-cheek.

Fitz gave Abby a hard stare.

Suddenly from the same archway Harrison stepped forward ready to speak when Olivia appeared from behind him like a ghostly vision. Fitz's eyes shone and he was momentarily lost in her graceful presence.

"The Cardinal's bully boys dropped by, and I hide her for safety," Abby explained firmly, and noticed Fitz's ice cold aura evaporate at the sight of the black woman. Fitz caught Abby's stare and loudly cleared his throat. He turned back to Olivia with renewed hostility.

"Sit!" ordered Fitz, trying to maintain some kind of control. Just looking at Olivia made him feel he was in personal danger of losing of losing his mind and heart. He wanted to demonstrate to Abby and the rest of them no woman no matter how breathtakingly beautiful and charismatic could get the better of him and affect his emotions especially when he had a mission to accomplish. His job was to guard protect and defend King and Country against criminals. She was a wanted woman; the enemy. Fitz was the law and he didn't cross enemy lines.

Olivia obeyed and sat quietly, resting her arms on the table. The light reflected to show bruising to her wrist from their earlier encounter. Fitz throat contracted and he coughed to ease his guilt viewing the marks he'd left on her mocha skin. "Why are Red Guards looking for you?" he demanded to know.

Olivia sighed heavily and shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps they've mistaken me for someone else. You know we all look the same," she answered dryly.

Harrison chuckled and Olivia looked over at him. They shared a knowing smile.

Fitz slammed both hands down on the table in front of Olivia and causing everyone in the room to jump.

"_Don't play me for some Court of Miracles clown,_"bellowed Fitz.

"Calm down, Fitz," Harrison warned gently.

"She's Most Wanted and you know the penalty that carries. Do you want to risk our reputations and being charged as assessors for harboring a murderer? I don't know about the rest of you but I'm particularly attached to my head," he fumed.

"We'd probably get the firing squad," commented Stephen.

"That makes me feel so much better," shot back Fitz sardonically. He rolled his eyes and felt deeply disturbed when Stephen began mimicking guards taking aim and firing at Harrison who grabbed his chest as though he'd been shot.

'When you're both quite finished," cut in Fitz his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"How are you sure she's the guilty assassin?" asked Harrison.

Fitz reached inside his pocket and then threw down the alleged murder weapon on the table.

"You heard the man was gutted," he stared darkly at Olivia. "I do believe our mystery woman is quite well versed in the art of that particular skill."

Olivia was unaffected by his accusation. She breathed calmly and evenly as a hushed awkward silence filled the small dining room.

"Mademoiselle Pope, it's in your interests to speak up," reasoned Abby.

"Before we have you arrested," added Fitz for good measure.

Olivia studied the knife. Her keen eye could make out specs of red blood on the blade's edge; she then gazed up at her accuser.

"What would be the point, you appeared to have already made up your mind about me, haven't you... Fitz?" she replied huskily, gazing up at him beneath long dark eyelashes.

Fitz's heart skipped a beat.

Yes, he thought. He had indeed made up his mind about Olivia Pope. She was the one.

* * *

**AN: _Thanks for reading. _**


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